


Unlikely alliances

by Schromez



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schromez/pseuds/Schromez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, Five People Who Were Surprised by Clint and Darcy's Bromance and One Who Wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

“Who're you?” Darcy asks, even as she gives him the once-over. 

He's taller than her, though not by much, with scruffy brown hair. Well built and good looking to boot. But then, that seems to be a requirement for being a member of the Avengers. 

He raises an eyebrow at her inspection and holds out a hand. “Clint Barton.” 

Darcy shakes his hand and says, “Barton? Jane never mentioned you.” 

He shrugs a shoulder. “We've only met once.”

“I thought you guys all lived here,” Darcy says, puzzled. 

“Only on lockdown. We can go wherever we want the rest of the time.” 

“Huh.” Darcy considers this for a moment, then looks at him again. “You want a drink?” 

“Always.” 

The pair settle in the living room, and four beers later are feeling comfortable enough in the others company to argue over what channel to watch. 

Four months later, they are frequenting bars and Darcy finds herself in something of a competition with him for who can get the most numbers from the opposite sex. They rarely leave without the other, though often one will disappear for anything from minutes to hours. 

When Jane discovers their unlikely friendship, she smiles and says nothing. The Avengers are surprisingly slow to realize that their most elusive member has acquired a new friend outside of their team. 

It is Tony who walks in one day, lured by their loud argument about whether or not knife-throwing should qualify as an olympic sport. He leans by the doorframe, arms folded, observing them for several minutes over the rims of his sunglasses. 

He draws their attention by clearing his throat, and Darcy is startled enough that she jumps. Clint just whips his head round, looking slightly troubled when he sees that Tony has clearly been there a while without him noticing. 

“When did you two meet?” Tony asks, pushing from the doorframe and striding through the room. He throws himself on the chair beside Clint, who rolls his eyes but moves over enough to make space for them both. 

Darcy reaches out to grab the remote from Tony, who looked ready to change the channel. She shakes her head at him and tucks it between her back and the chair. 

“About half a year ago,” Darcy replies casually. She leans her elbows back into the chair for leverage as she stretches one foot out and switches the TV off with her toe. 

“Hey!” Clint says, looking ultimately betrayed. “I was watching that.” 

“Yeah, you were. Now you're gonna get up off your ass and bar hop with me.” She stands and holds out a hand, which he takes after a moment of sulky staring, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.  
Tony watches with a strange curiousity. He has never seen Hawkeye interact much with anyone outside S.H.I.E.L.D or The Avengers themselves, and so the fact that he has somehow managed to hide a friendship with Darcy when they all live in the same house (which, granted, is about twelve times the size of your regular place but still) is just baffling. 

It makes sense, in a weird kind of way. Clint is a smartass, doesn't respond well to orders but has a good heart underneath all his douchebaggery exterior. Darcy is rather similar, and so the fact that they have apparently formed some sort of an alliance can't be that surprising. 

Yet it still is, and Tony frowns behind his shades when Darcy twists behind Clint and smacks him on the ass, earning a startled squeak from a man whom Tony once held a healthy amount of respect for. 

“What the hell?” Clint demands, turning to stare after Darcy. 

They are weird together, and it is a fact solidified in Tony's mind when Darcy casually flips the archer off over her shoulder and receives nothing beyond a head shake and eye roll in response.


	2. Coulson

It isn't the first time Darcy has tasered an Avenger, and it probably won't be the last. 

But it's the first time she's tasered this particular Avenger, and as she holds her weapon in front of her, wide eyes fixed on her shuddering target, she realises her mistake. 

"Oh my god, Bruce I am so sorry! I thought you were - you know, with the green and all, it just - I can't - I'm so sorry!" She babbles, lowering her weapon in a panic and involuntarily dragging Bruce down with it. "Agh, I swear I'm not - this isn't intentional at all I just - I'm sorry!" 

The scientist is on his knees, grunting and twitching and she can already see that his eyes are gradually darkening to a deep moss green. By the time she's unjammed the trigger and stopped the volts of electricity that are still coursing through him, it's too late. 

There is a familiar ripping sound, and his shirt hangs in tatters around a bulky green frame as his legs lengthen and his face contorts. 

Darcy drops her taser and runs for it. They're in the downstairs arena, where she had been physically attacking a punching bag to let off some steam. Clint and Natasha had been training her the past few weeks - nothing difficult, but enough self-defence that she felt confident handling herself should her taser ever not be within reach. Of course, those techniques may prove ineffective against the enormous green wall of muscle and rage that is the Hulk. 

Her bare feet grip the polished floor as she makes for the elevator on the far end of the room, giving her a slight advantage over Bruce, who is still mid-change and whose large green feet bear the remains of what were once shoes. The elevators are rarely used by more than one person at a time, since there are only seven of them sharing the place and more than twelve elevators going to various different places around the mansion. She prays that this time won't be the exception as she slams her fist against the button, casting nervous looks over her shoulder at the roaring form of a fully changed Bruce. 

He throws back his head and flexes large green arms as he bellows, and Darcy is glad because she knows that even if no one has been watching the security cameras, they'll definitely recognize that roar. 

The ping of the elevator doors sliding open has Darcy freezing for a split-second and the Hulk pausing to squint in her direction. His eyes meet hers across the distance of the gym, and they both move at once. Darcy launches herself into the back of elevator and frantically presses buttons; floor one, two, three, ten -   
"Come on, come on!" She mutters, glancing through the small gap as the doors begin to close just in time to see a large green hand grab at the empty space she had been in seconds before. 

The doors shudder to a complete close, and slowly the lift begins its ascent. Darcy chews a fingernail, staring at the shut doors anxiously, half-expecting the metal to cave inwards in the shape of a large, angry fist. But it doesn't, and the only sound she hears on her way up is the Hulk's roar of frustration, followed by a loud crash. 

She's not sure which of the many floors she requested its taking her to, but is relieved when it comes to a halt at level five - the rec room. The doors slide open and she steps out, toes curling into the warmth of the fluffy sheepskin rug that Tony insists is not tacky, and Thor calls "a fine farewell by the beast who once bore such a magnificent coat." 

Two heads turn to look at her, and she's relieved to see one of them is Clint. She pads over to him, trying not to seem edgy though her hands are shaking and her smile feels a little forced through the rush of adrenaline that still flows through her. 

"Hey," she greets, giving him a casual pat on the cheek as she stands facing his side. She turns to offer a small wave to Coulson, who stands opposite Clint with arms folded and a look of carefully controlled surprise. 

"Miss Lewis," he says, offering a curt nod. 

"Um, not to interrupt or whatever, but Bruce just hulked out in the gym," she says, fixing her eyes on Clint's face to gauge his reaction. 

His eyebrows shoot up, and his look darts from Coulson to Darcy. "Where you there?" he asks, and the concern is obvious. 

"I was..." she replies hesitantly. "I'm kinda the one who caused it." 

"Wait, you - what?" Clint's eyebrows furrow, and he places a hand on her shoulder, steadily guiding her to the nearest chair and giving her a gentle push down into it. When she stares up at him pleadingly, he relents and sits beside her. "Tell me what happened," he says with the defeated air of a parent who has been called in to see the principal one too many times this week. 

"He scared me! I was working out in the gym and I had my earphones in -" 

"Of course you did," Clint mutters sarcastically, and Darcy punches him hard on the arm. 

"Like I was saying," she continues with a pointed glare, "I didn't hear him, next thing I know there's this flash of green - which is actually kinda funny because he's the Hulk and why was he flying his own colours? But I thought it was something bad or whatever, I grabbed the taser and shot him. It was a reflex!" 

Clint stares at her for a few seconds before he bursts into laughter, patting her shoulder affectionately at her confused look. "What?" she asks. "Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?" 

It just makes him laugh harder, and he doesn't stop until she whacks him around the back of the head and snaps, "Hey, I could have been, like, killed or something. It's not funny!" 

"I - no, you're right. Sorry. I'm sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all, and continues to smirk a little at his lap when Darcy scowls at him.

"Shouldn't you go tranquillize him, archer boy?" She says sulkily. 

Coulson walks over, eyebrows furrowed and a strange expression on his face as he stands before them. "Yes, he should," he says, looking at Clint sternly. 

Clint continues to laugh under his breath as he collects a tranq gun (not his weapon of choice, but the only thing in reach) and loads it under Coulson's watchful gaze. "Be back in a few," he promises as he heads for the stairs, gun slung over one shoulder. 

There's a silence in his absence, and Darcy sneaks a look at Coulson - his eyes flicker to meet hers right away and goddamn, Clint wasn't lying when he said this guy is a ninja. 

"How long have you been living here?" he asks, tone conversational. 

Darcy shrugs. "Um, a while? I don't know, when Jane moved in I came with." 

"I see...are you and Agent Barton good friends?" 

"What?" Darcy frowns at him, instinctively curling in on herself a slight bit more. "Why?"

Coulson gives her a warm smile. "I just like to keep an eye on what my best agent is getting up to." 

"We hang out a lot, I guess. He's been teaching me self-defence," she adds, because if anything will earn her brownie points with a ninja, it's gotta be that. 

"Has he?" Coulson asks, smile and tone very obviously amused. 

Darcy nods, and takes his hand in a slightly sweaty handshake before he leaves, shaking his head on his way to the elevator.


	3. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized upon re-reading this entire thing that I've changed tenses in this chapter. *Facepalm*   
> It was all supposed to be in the present, but then this one just came to me and I typed it out before I thought of looking back on how I'd been doing these so far. I'm much too lazy to go back and change it, so I hope it's not a problem. Sorry about that guys!

Natasha had somewhere secret that she went after a battle lost. A secret hovel to retreat to, to lick her wounds in private and not have to pretend to care about the spirit of the team as a whole. 

Bruce went to Betty - or rather, Betty came to Bruce. She could calm him after a mission regardless of its outcome, and so now they sat, speaking in low tones about what had gone wrong. Beside them sat an irate Tony, Pepper standing behind the chair and resting a hand on his shoulder. It was the only gesture she had to offer as he nursed a broken arm and bloodied face. 

Thor and Jane sat in a pair of beanbag chairs in the corner of the room, Thor looking comically petulant as he sat in the bright pink blob, elbows resting on drawn up knees while Jane leaned across her chair to rub soothing patterns along his arms and shoulders.

At the kitchen sink, Steve stood with his lower back pressed to the counter, arms folded across his chest and eyes cast downward. He spoke sadly when asked any questions, and it was Fury who decided to congratulate him on a job well done despite their failure, with a heavy handshake and a rare sympathetic look. 

Clint sat at the kitchen table to Steve's left, somewhat relieved that he didn't have anyone to explain things to on a personal level, while also lamenting the fact. His left arm was torn and bloodied, skin hanging in jagged fleshy strands as blood streamed into the cloths he held against it. As yet another became soaked with red enough to begin dripping onto the table, he looked to Steve, who pulled a fresh blue towel from the pile atop the counter and tossed it wordlessly to him. 

Clint caught it in his good hand and quickly switched towels, trying not to hiss with the pain when dried blood tried to stick torn skin to the old towel. So focussed on his task was he, that he didn't notice the seat in front of him acquire an occupant until she spoke. 

"I heard you guys got your asses kicked." 

He looked up so sharply that it strained his already smarting neck, and tried not to let that show when his eyes met Darcy's across the table. Instead he tossed her the bloodied towel, and smirked when she ducked and shrieked. 

"Ew, Clint! That's so gross, why would you even - ugh, I've got your blood all over my shirt." 

He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned the gesture along with a casual flip of the middle finger. "Seriously archer boy, you do that again and you can get real well acquainted with my taser." 

"Jesus, will you relax?" he said through a laugh. "I'm not infected." 

Darcy just shrugged, settling herself more comfortably in the hard kitchen chair and resting an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, staring fixedly at Clint with an uncharacteristic seriousness. "You okay? Really, I mean." 

"M'always okay," he said with a grin. "Sometimes I'm just a bit more okay than other times." 

"Dude, you like, ripped open your arm," she said flatly. "How'd that even happen? Get thrown out a moving train again?" 

"Nah. Had to jump out of the way to avoid a shot, and in doing so kind of skidded on my side."

"Just another day at the office." 

"Pretty much, yeah." 

Darcy smiled, and stood up. For a sudden, disappointing moment Clint thought she was leaving - but she only took the seat beside him instead, curling her legs underneath her and wiggling bare toes in the cold air. "Jeeze, doesn't Stark have heating for this place?" she muttered. "I feel like I'm in Ice Age. Any minute now should bring Scrat and Sid the Sloth along..." 

Quietly, Steve moved toward the table and took the seat Darcy had just vacated. He watched them curiously, the first expression to cross his features since the absolute depressive downward tilt of his lips and furrow of his brows set in when they had returned. 

"You're such a geek," Clint said fondly. For a moment, it looked like he was about to reach out to touch her, but the damp blood soaked cloth he held against his skin grabbed his attention when it slid down, creating an uncomfortable friction that made him wince. 

"And you're an idiot," Darcy replied. "Want another towel?" 

"Yes please." 

She nodded and padded over to the counter, noticing Steve's change in position for the first time when she stood. "Hey Cap," she smiled.

"Darcy," Steve nodded, shooting her a pleasant smile as she walked back over and handed Clint the fresh towel before reclaiming her seat beside him. 

"Like I was saying," Darcy continued, turning to face Clint with an elbow on the table and one side of her face leaning into her palm as she stared listlessly at him. "You're an idiot." 

"Why?" Clint sighed, looking resigned. 

"Well, you haven't had that seen to yet, for one thing," she said, jerking her chin at his arm. "And don't even try to tell me the meds haven't arrived yet, because Tony's got a -" 

"You make an odd couple," Steve interrupted. 

Two pairs of eyes darted to his face, and he blushed. Clint's eyebrows were raised, one corner of his mouth turned up in a slightly confused smile, while Darcy just looked like she wanted to burst out laughing. After a good ten seconds of staring and blushing, she gave into the impulse. 

"I didn't - I didn't mean it like that," Steve said, looking flustered. "I just...I've never seen you talk so much to anyone outside the team." The last part was directed at Clint, and for a moment Darcy nearly choked on her own laughter.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Clint moaned, looking to Darcy as though she might hold the answer he was looking for. 

Tony chose that moment to stride into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and already mid-sentence by the time he'd reached it. "Because it's true. And yeah, they're bros. God, didn't you know that yet? Get with the times, Cap." 

Steve looked even more confused when Tony winked at Darcy, received a thumbs up in response and Clint's head hit the table with an audible thump. "I have got friends outside of work," he grumbled into the wood. 

Darcy just chuckled as she reached out to pat his back. "Of course you do, archer baby. Of course you do." 

Considering the mood that had befallen the team since their return to the mansion, Clint couldn't help but admire the fact that when he exited the kitchen a few minutes after Darcy to find her teaching them all how to play tennis on the Wii, even Thor had a smile on his face.


End file.
